Syrinx
by Venetia L
Summary: Nuada's bird's eye view of New York.  Nuala's flights of fancy.  Pre-HB2.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these fascinating characters, and no copyright infringement is intended by this story.  
**A/N:** 2010 is the International Year of Biodiversity. More conservation efforts are needed to help protect our world's disappearing wildlife and last remaining open space.

**S y r i n x  
_by Venetia L._**

The trees in the orchards no longer dripped with fruits and nuts because there weren't enough bees to pollinate them. The pesticides used in nearby fields may have killed off many of the honeybees. Now cherry, apple, pear and almond trees with empty branches greeted him when he strolled through the French countryside. _Help them, a dhearthair._

Raw sewage polluted the beaches and bays. Toxic waste from petroleum refineries and chemical plants contaminated the tidal creeks and rivers. She rescued hundreds of waterfowl and fish from these blighted waterways and continued to help restore New York's estuaries and salt marshes. _They poison the earth, a dheirfiur, and you clean up after them like a scullery maid._

Her favourite haunt was a wildlife refuge and bird sanctuary on the southwestern tip of Long Island. Jamaica Bay's beaches, woods and wetlands were home to many small mammals, reptiles and amphibians. Shorebirds were attracted to the mudflats there, and geese and ducks were drawn to its brackish ponds. In spring and summer, the salt marshes provided sheltered feeding and nursery grounds for migratory fish and nesting water birds. But lately, the marshes were disappearing at an unprecedented rate, possibly due to pollutants. Highway and asphalt runoff soaked with motor oil and diesel fuel, toxins leaching from hazardous waste landfills, and nutrient-loaded water from wastewater treatment plants could be causing the demise of the tall grasses and vegetation, along with the mussels and crabs that help hold the marshes together. If something more wasn't done soon to halt this damage, all 3,400 acres of island marshes could be gone within 20 years_. They spread like weeds_ _and ruin the habitats of other species without remorse. Their ecological_ _practices are unsustainable_.

She freed the injured duck she carried all the way from Gowanus Canal in the bay's shallow waters, and hoped it would remain safely hidden from predators until her next visit there.

~o~

_Her favourite woodland pond once teemed with an abundance of life: Dragonflies, snails, earthworms, diving beetles, newts, small frogs and fish thrived amid the flowering rushes and reeds until an invasive species altered the ecosystem. Now the more aggressive and voracious frogs dominated the aquatic community after decimating their pond mates._

_He found her perched demurely on a rock surrounded by blue and white columbines, like a wood nymph awaiting Pan. She declined the handful of nuts and berries he offered to share with her. _

"_If you want life to flourish there again, you must redress the species imbalance." He knew her tender heart would balk at this advice. "They have to be removed, Nuala."_

"_Not if you're going to drop them in a snake pit."_

"_You have far too much forbearance for the villains. At their present rate of consumption their home will soon be a ghost town."_

_He drew a sea star on the creamy skin of her left wrist with sticky bilberry juice. "For good luck," he said, "because you don't have any in your pond."_

_And then he headed for the wicked creatures._

"_Wait," she said, darting after him. "Please don't hurt them."_

"_The time for action is here, angel of mercy." They scattered when he tried to round them up._

"_Careful, Nuada, one of them could be my frog prince."_

"_I don't doubt it," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "But you'd best forget your slimy suitor. I hear the goblins are recruiting again."_

_Then whistling softly, he lured the spellbound frogs away into the darkening forest. As if to dispel the gloom, she immersed her left wrist in the pond and watched her lucky star slowly bleed into the water.  
_

~o~

At dusk, she headed back across the Brooklyn Bridge: a silver web of wire strands stretching over the East River. Every time she passed under its stone arches and between the diagonal and vertical cables that soared skyward, she felt as if she were in a cage. But it was a familiar discomfort and one she hardly noticed anymore. _Your choice to help_ _them enslaves you, dove queen. Reconsider, for your people's sake._

Above her, a flock of ducks raced away as if chased by a pack of demons. Somewhere in the darkening sky, she heard the war songs of a bird of prey. A peregrine falcon was descending rapidly in a corkscrew dive towards the others. It struck swiftly and then disappeared over Manhattan.

A wild longing to fly to its side left her in turmoil on the bridge. Something predatory and untamed seemed to uncoil inside her, having lain dormant there for years. It pursued her now through the streets of New York, winding closer to her runaway heart.

She rushed past warehouses, shops, restaurants and bars, jazz clubs and theatres, in a daze, pausing only in Times Square, site of the annual New Year's Eve ball drop for nearly a century. Now, fittingly, at midnight, she thought she felt his warm breath on her face as he swooped down for a kiss that just grazed her lips. It was a gentle reminder to shake off her bonds and reach for the stars.

She stayed out all night, paying no heed to the dark-plumed raptors watching them from the spires of St. Patrick's Cathedral. She fled from their glowering, disapproving stares and dreamt of her muse instead. _Come away with me._

They played in the parks, dallied on the beaches and explored Manhattan together. He chased her around the maypole-like skyscrapers and she showed him her sandbox across the river. When the moon withdrew its pale light, she felt him depart from their nest.

_Don't go._

His unwavering love for her had always sustained her through their worst separations and sorrows. She drew from that well of strength now. By sunrise he was gone, following a new lead south along the Atlantic Flyway.


End file.
